


moon over coney island

by gothyringwald



Series: date night aka when i take my sugar to... [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Amusement Parks, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food, M/M, Post-Canon, Roller Coasters, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10694433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: Graves and Credence spend the day at Coney Island. Graves spoils Credence rotten. Fluff ensues.If anyone had told Graves, eighteen months ago, he'd be waiting in line to go on a No-Maj amusement park ride, he would have laughed. But a few minutes on a rollercoaster is nothing compared to what he is prepared to do for Credence, he thinks, throwing a friendly arm around the younger man's shoulders.





	1. moon over coney island

**Author's Note:**

> I started this at the beginning of February! Yikes. So many ideas, so little time.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't like roller coasters. Or crowds. Or the beach. I do, however, like fairy floss (cotton candy), and handsome young men in boaters.
> 
> Not beta'd, because I'm impatient.
> 
>  **Update 7/5/17:** Second chapter added - a 'missing scene' from Credence's POV.
> 
> [Aesthetic edit on tumblr.](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/162526095506/moon-over-coney-island-a-gradence-fic-graves)

Summer, 1927

'I'm not going on that.' Percival Graves stares up at the imposing structure before him, alarmingly named the 'Cyclone', with Credence close by his side.

The younger man tugs on his sleeve, dark eyes wide and pleading. 'Please. I don't want to go alone.'

'It doesn't look safe.' People jostle them as they move past, chatting and laughing; the air is thick with summer heat and the mingling scents of sweat, fairground food, sticky and clotting, and the briny air blowing in from the sea on a stifling breeze.

Credence huffs in disbelief and lowers his voice. 'You fly, on a broomstick, but you won't go on the rollercoaster?'

'I haven't flown since school.' Graves straightens his cuffs, already damp despite the cooling charm he'd cast on himself and Credence that morning. 'Besides, we've already been on that whirly thing with all the swings,' Graves says, twirling his finger in the air, 'and the 'Witching Waves', and that tunnel that kept spinning. Aren't you dizzy enough?'

Credence shakes his head, and bites his lip, as though to contain the grin dimpling his cheeks. He bats his eyelashes and sticks out his bottom lip. Graves never should have told him how appealing his pout is. 'Please. Just one more ride, I promise.'

Graves sighs and rubs a hand over his face. 'Fine.' Triumph gleams in Credence's eyes and Graves lets himself be pulled along, long fingers curled around his wrist. 'Probably best we go on it before we eat any of the food in this place, anyway,' he adds, with a wary look at the concession stands they pass.

Credence's thumb swipes across his pulse and he flashes Graves a grin over his shoulder. Graves's stomach flips and it is only, in part, at the prospect of hurtling along the narrow tracks of the monstrous rollercoaster towering over them.

They wait in line after paying for their tickets, Credence practically bouncing beside Graves, and he tries to focus on the younger man's excitement, rather than the dread that fills his stomach with each passing scream from the No-Majes above them. Facing down dark wizards or attacking the large pile of paperwork that waits for him at MACUSA headquarters both seem far preferable than a ride on the Cyclone. He doesn't trust these No-Maj contraptions.

Credence chatters away, about the sights they have already seen in their few hours at Coney Island, what he wants to do for the rest of the day, and Graves marvels at how much Credence has changed, how much he, himself, has changed. If anyone had told him, eighteen months ago, he'd be waiting in line to go on a No-Maj amusement park ride, he would have laughed. But a few minutes on a rollercoaster is nothing compared to what he is prepared to do for Credence, he thinks, throwing a friendly arm around the younger man's shoulders.

Soon, they step into a car, removing their hats – Credence's a jaunty boater, Graves's a crisp panama – and Credence gives Graves's knee a discreet squeeze before they lurch to a start. The wind rushes past him, whistling in his ears, but it's nothing like flying on a broom: then, he was in control of the speed, every dip and loop. Now, he is at the whim of the ride operator, the metal and wood construction and physics. He holds the bar in front of him, white-knuckled, as the car crests the zenith and they drop eighty-five feet, with his eyes shut tight. His stomach is left behind and his heart races, but Credence's cheers and whoops of delight steady him and he manages to open his eyes, deciding the nausea and terror is worth the sheer joy on his lover's face.

Minutes later, though it feels like years, the car glides to a stop, metal shrieking, and Graves steps out on wobbling legs, hat clutched in one hand, Credence's arm around his shoulder the only thing holding him up. 

'You OK?' Credence murmurs and Graves nods. He's certain his face is deathly white, but Credence is radiant, eyes sparkling as he claps his hands and says, 'Gosh, that was swell. Can we go again?'

Graves groans. He briefly reconsiders his earlier thought that he would do anything for Credence. 

'I'm only teasing.' Credence nudges his shoulder, and Graves breathes a sigh of relief that he quickly disguises with a cough, putting his hat back on with shaking hands. 'Thank-you, for going on the rollercoaster with me,' Credence says, lashes dipping. 

'My pleasure,' he says, and is met with a disbelieving look from Credence. Graves's mouth twists into a wry smile. 'Where to now?' 

The younger man wraps his arms around his middle, turns shy, again. 'I'm kinda hungry, could we eat, please?'

Graves nods, stomach still eighty-five feet above them, and follows Credence to a concession stand. A sign above it reads 'Hot dogs and hamburgers', next to a bright red one with 'Coca Cola' written in a flowing, white script. The greasy scent of grilled meat wafts through the air, the sizzle and slap of patties being turned just audible over the clamouring crowd.

'Do you want a hamburger or a hot dog?' Graves asks, eyeing the sign that proclaims them to be 10c apiece. 'Both sound equally dubious.'

Credence snorts. 'You're such a snob, Percy,' he says and Graves only raises an eyebrow as if to say 'Who, me?' Credence bites his lip as he considers the options, watching other patrons as they eagerly consume their food.

'Or do you want both?' Fond amusement rises as Graves thinks of Credence's ceaseless appetite, already guessing the answer. 

Credence licks his lips and his eyes widen. 'Oh. Can I?'

'Of course.' Graves claps a hand on the younger man's shoulder. 'Though I don't know where you fit all that food,' Graves says, eyes drifting down Credence's slim form, concealed beneath a natty grey suit. Credence looks down at himself and shrugs, hands spread.

'Here, you better pay. I still don't understand No-Maj money.' Graves digs into his pocket and hands Credence a crisp, green bill. 'Is this enough?'

'Yes, too much, actually,' Credence says holding back another fond laugh. 'What do you want?'

'Surprise me,' Graves says with little enthusiasm and watches as Credence disappears into the line of hungry patrons waiting to be served. 

Graves hangs back, hands in his pockets, watching the passing No-Majes, laden with food and prizes and balloons, faces red and shining. A warm breeze blows past, bringing the scent of the ocean with it. Graves loosens his wide silk tie, a simple brown, too tight in the heat and mops his brow.

Minutes later Credence emerges, again, fresh hot food, wrapped in paper, balanced precariously in his grasp; he hands over a hamburger to Graves, keeping a burger and hot dog for himself. 

Credence wolfs down his burger, his once timid nibbling now voracious mouthfuls, and Graves, stomach finally caught up with him, takes a wary bite of his own. It is, surprisingly, good - meat juicy, the sharp tang of mustard and ketchup, hot, gooey cheese - and he eats the rest, standing by Credence a few feet from the concession stand, in a companionable silence. 

Ketchup runs down Credence's chin as he moves onto his hot dog and Graves wishes he could lick it away, or even just wipe it with his thumb, touch Credence in a less chummy, more romantic way. But he only hands Credence his handkerchief, gesturing that there is something on his face, and contents himself with the closeness of the other man, as they stand in the hot sun, and the open happiness on Credence's face. It is a more common sight than it once was, but it still takes Graves's breath away.

Their next stop is the penny arcade. A cacophony of laughter, ringing bells, and tinkling coins greets them as they step inside, cascades of coloured lights painting the walls. The wooden floor beneath them vibrates with the pounding footsteps of other patrons and the jingling, jangling machines.

Credence makes a beeline for a Mutoscope – 'I've always wanted to see one of these' – entranced as he turns the crank even though he has seen magical photographs that move, even though they frequent the No-Maj cinema two or three times a week. Graves rarely pays attention to the moving picture flickering on the screen, and instead watches Credence, the silver light playing over his features, his smiles at the actors' triumphs, his tears at their tragedies. 

When Credence looks up, eyes sparkling, Graves feels like all the air has left the room – will he ever not feel like that when he looks at Credence? - and lets himself be moved into position so he can peer into the viewfinder, turning the crank as Credence had. The light comes on, pictures inside whirring past, two girls dancing, kicking their legs and he mutters what he hopes is appropriate enthusiasm. 'Nifty, huh?' says Credence, leaning over the machine. Graves straightens when the money runs out and says, 'Sure is.'

They wander through the arcade, Graves watching Credence as intensely as always, deriving his pleasure from the younger man's. Credence seems happily overwhelmed by the amusements around them as he moves from one to another, barely stopping at each one, buzzing with excitement, even more than the Witching Waves or the rollercoaster had elicited.

'Want to measure your sex appeal?' Graves asks, as they pass a machine called a 'Love Meter'. He leans closer to Credence, who has stopped dead in his tracks, ears pink, and whispers, 'Though, I don't need the machine for that.' The pink crawls from Credence's ears, down across his sharp cheekbones, painting them the most fetching shade. 

Graves leans back, again, satisfaction at flustering Credence, though it's not difficult, tingling through his blood. Credence meets his gaze, raises a brow through his embarrassment, says, 'Why don't you try it?' The older man shrugs and puts in a penny – 'no, this is the penny, that one's a dime – they're not even the same colour, Percy' – and squeezes the handle. He barks out a laugh when 'cold' lights up. 

'It must be broken,' says Credence, the flirtatious tone he usually reserves for the bedroom lacing his voice, though there is a tremor in his words that belies his confidence. Graves only smiles, and shrugs, urging Credence to give it a go. Credence gives in, squeezing the handle tentatively, and his cheeks turn from pink to flame red when 'uncontrollable' lights up. He releases the handle as though burnt. 'Doesn't seem broken, now,' says Graves, stepping around Credence, trailing a finger along a similar device next to the 'Love Meter'. 

'What about this personality one?' 

Credence shakes his head fervently, still rooted in place. 

'Hm. Good idea. You'd overload this one, because you're...' Graves pauses as he eyes the personality traits, 'Sweet, adorable, kissable,' - he steps as close to Credence as he dares, straightens the boy's maroon polka dotted bowtie, then lets his hand drop, two fingers on Credence's slim wrist - 'and very, very naughty.'

'Percy,' Credence hisses, pulling his hand away and looking around pointedly, though his flush is more pleased than embarrassed, now. 

'Don't worry, they can't hear us.'

Realisation dawns on Credence's face. 'A muffling charm?' Graves nods. 'Maybe you're the naughty one.'

'Maybe.' Graves says, voice low, and is sorely tempted to cast a disillusionment charm and pull Credence to him, kiss those impossibly pink lips, but the penny arcade is bustling with people who will probably either soon wonder why their mouths are moving and no sound is coming out or knock into them in the limited space. So, he ends the muffling charm and lets Credence, still blushing, pull him from one amusement to another until the younger man finds the enclosed space too confining and they spill back out onto the thoroughfare.

At the high striker, a burly man wields a large mallet, hefting it above his head and bringing it down onto a lever; they watch as the puck whizzes up and up and up, until it hits the bell with a resounding ring. The girl beside him claps her hands, squealing with delight, and threads her arm through his when the vendor hands over a small, chalkware kewpie, a gauzy bow tied around its naked potbelly. Graves smiles and turns to Credence who is fixated, eyes wide with wonder, on the cheap prizes adorning the various game stalls, a cornucopia of tat and tchotchkes. 

Graves follows Credence's gaze to a row of cloth dolls, sitting primly on a shelf in the Milk Bottle game, watches as Credence's eyes dip away. His heart clenches when he remembers the younger man telling him how he'd wanted a doll once and Mary Lou had beaten him. Toys were, like many other things, a frivolity to Mary Lou and that Credence had asked for one was somehow proof of what a sinful boy he was. Graves will never be able to erase what Mary Lou did to Credence, but he will shower him with frivolities if he's allowed to.

'Want me to win you one?' asks Graves, nodding at the dolls.

'No, it's fine,' Credence says, though his eyes never leave them.

'Come on. Let me show off a little.'

Credence seems to consider this a moment. Maybe he's reached his limit of being indulged, today, Graves thinks, still doesn't like to take too much, though Graves would gladly give him anything, everything he can, but then Credence says, 'No magic?' and Graves inwardly cheers.

'Of course not, that would be cheating.' Graves quips with a wink. 

The vendor – a squat man in a waistcoat and rumpled white shirt, sleeves bunched under gold garters – eyes them with a raised brow as they approach, but says nothing as Graves hands over his money and takes the proffered balls. It's been a long time since he's thrown a ball – not since playing Quodpot at Ilvermorny – so he misses on the first two throws, just clipping a bottle which wobbles for the briefest of moments but doesn't fall. But he hits the bottles square in the middle, the next time, sending them toppling onto the table. Credence doesn't squeal with delight like the No-Maj girl had when her beau showed off his strength, but his eyes are proud when they meet Graves's.

The man hands Graves the doll, dressed in a Pierrot shirt, dark mohair wig set in waves, which he promptly passes to Credence. 

'Thank-you,' says Credence, holding the doll out in front of him. The stallholder clucks disapprovingly at them and Graves gives him a stern glare before steering Credence away.

They walk through the crowds, the doll tucked safely under Credence's arm, until they pass a stand selling caramel corn and cotton candy and Credence pauses for the briefest of moments. Graves takes him by the elbow and pulls him along so they can buy fluffy, pink spun sugar in a cone of white paper, a bag of sticky caramel corn and a bottle of Coca Cola for Credence, despite the young man's weak protests that he's no longer hungry. Graves buys a root beer, frothy and sweet, blessedly cool in the sharp heat, and they find somewhere to sit.

'You'll rot your teeth with all that sugar,' Graves says as Credence sips at his Coca Cola. Heat creeps up his neck as the younger man's cheeks hollow around the straw.

Credence pulls off, paper straw sticking to his plush bottom lip momentarily. He tips his boater back, which had slipped down as he leant over the bottle. 'Isn't there a potion that can regrow them?' He doesn't mention that it was Graves who had urged him to buy all the sweets.

Graves only chuckles and sips his beer, flicking the brim of Credence's boater playfully, wishing he could take it off and run his hand through Credence's hair, the curls licking the nape of his neck, sticking, sweaty, to his forehead. He sighs. Credence makes short work of his cotton candy, licking the tacky pink remnants from his long fingers, and Graves flushes again, shifting in his seat, feeling like a lustful teenager. He shakes his head.

As Credence attacks the caramel corn with gusto, Graves says, 'You are insatiable, aren't you?' Credence only grins around a mouthful of the sweet treat, either missing or choosing to ignore the double entendre.

The afternoon ambles on, hot and heady. They stop and watch a ride where people sit on a spinning platform, and do their best to not fall off. Most end up sliding away, spilling into the dip around the edge, pressed against the walls. Credence looks on in amusement, but doesn't ask to go on it or any other rides, true to his word that the rollercoaster would be the last. Graves pays little attention to the sights around them – he's not even overly fond of magical festivities – but Credence soaks it all in, and that's enough for Graves.

Sweat trickles down his neck as they stroll along the boardwalk, and he looks out to the beachgoers bathing in the ocean, want welling up inside him. It's been years since he's swum, and then it had been in a lake, near his parents' house, not the wide expanse of the glittering ocean. He casts a glance at Credence beside him and says, 'Would you like to go for a swim?'

Credence startles. 'I don't have a costume...'

Graves grins. 'We're wizards, Credence.'

'Oh, but...' Credence looks out at the mass of bodies on the beach, wavers for a moment. 'Um, OK.'

They find a bath house where Graves can transfigure their suits into bathing costumes. It's cool inside, but musty, the odour of wet wool lingering around them.

'What colour do you want?' he asks and Credence shrugs, so he changes Credence's sleek summer suit into a white shirt with navy edging and solid navy trunks, a white belt threaded through the loops. The tight wool clings to Credence's lithe form, showing off its curves and hard lines. Graves swallows, thickly, and briefly considers turning the suit into something less well-fitted, to keep Credence's figure all for himself, or to stop his own wandering eyes, he's not sure. Though his eyes would still wander over Credence if he were wearing a burlap sack, he thinks.

'Not much to them, is there?' Credence looks down at himself with a frown. Before Graves can ask if he would rather wear something that covers more, Credence shrugs, again, and says, 'Your turn?'

Graves changes his own three-piece suit – darker than Credence's dove grey but lighter than his usual black, a concession to the heat – to navy trunks and a white and navy striped shirt. He doesn't miss the heated look Credence gives him, pride fluttering in his chest, and, finally away from No-Maj eyes, he pulls Credence to him for an all-too-brief but intense kiss. It stokes the embers that have glowed within him all day, and as Credence's hands bunch in his shirt, he's sure he'll regret it, almost asks if they should cut their day short but he manages to pull away, Credence chasing the broken contact, and hopes the water will cool his ardour.

He strokes a thumb over Credence's cheek. 'We should...' he trails off, jerks his head toward the door. Credence nods and follows him.

'Are you OK?' Graves asks as Credence lingers near the bath house entrance. 'I know you get shy.'

Credence nods, fingers skimming Graves's bicep. 'I'm OK, with you with me,' he says. The doll stowed safely in a locker for them to collect later – the attendant too distracted by the magazine he reads to notice they don't carry their clothes out – they make their way to the beach, through the throng of perspiring New Yorkers, revelling in the summer sun.

They are in the water up to their ankles when Credence places a hand on Graves's forearm, fingers cool on his warmed skin. 'I should have said but, um, I can't swim.'

'Oh.' Graves doesn't know why this surprises him. When would Credence have learnt? 'Would you like me to teach you?'

Credence looks at all the people around them and shakes his head. 'But maybe one day.'

'Do you want to go back? We can just sit on the beach...' Graves's heart sinks at the thought but he doesn't want to ruin Credence's day.

'You go swim, I'll wait for you.'

'We don't have to swim. We can just...' he trails off and gestures to the people around them, most of whom are just splashing or paddling. 'I won't let anything happen to you,' he adds, when Credence looks uncertain. Credence nods slowly and they wade into the water, up to their waists.

One day, he'll take Credence out to the lake, teach him how to swim with only the two of them, there. He knows his mother would love to see Credence again, too, so maybe they'll make a whole weekend of it. For now he floats and paddles with Credence nearby, waits until Credence seems at ease in the water to sneak up and splash him playfully. He is met with an indignant cry but Credence catches on and splashes back. When Credence's shirt gets wet, Graves's mouth goes dry and he wishes he'd transfigured it solid navy, instead of white.

The sky turns to oranges and pinks as the sun makes its descent, washing Credence in the hazy light of dusk. Graves can't help but muse on how beautiful his young man is, wavy hair pushed back, eyelashes glistening, soft pink lips and sharp collarbones. Graves ducks beneath the water, ocean roaring in his ears, and wonders if he was ever this sentimental before Credence. 

They stay in the water a little longer but soon the air cools and they emerge from the ocean, woollen suits heavy and dripping, clinging to their bodies uncomfortably. Sand sprays up around them as they walk, sticking, itchy, to Graves's wet calves. He brushes it off when they find a spot to sit. The beach is only sparsely populated now and Graves feels confident in conjuring a towel for them to sit on, closer than they may have in the bright light of the afternoon that shone on them when they first made their way onto the beach.

Credence shivers and Graves wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He casts another look about them and then whispers a spell to dry them both off, but he leaves his arm draped over the younger man.

Seagulls hop nearby, scavenging discarded food scraps, cawing at each other inelegantly. Graves shoos them away, then turns back to Credence. 'Have a good day?' He asks, squeezing Credence's arm.

'Yes, thank-you.' Credence looks over his shoulder at the parks behind them. 'Gosh, it's pretty at night with all the lights, isn't it?' He turns back to Graves, who nods distractedly.

Sitting this close and with the fading light playing across Credence's hair, his face, Graves can't wait to get back home to kiss Credence again, so he casts a disillusionment charm and takes Credence's face in his hands. 

'You've been doing a lot of magic around No-Majes today, Mr Graves,' Credence says, playfully.

'Are you going to turn me in?'

Credence pretends to consider it then gives him a coy smile. 'Not if you make it worth my while.'

'Oh, I'll do that,' he says and kisses Credence, longer and deeper than he had in the bath house. Their tongues meet – Credence tastes faintly of cotton candy, and saltwater – and Credence moans softly.

The sun sinks below the horizon and the moon rears her head, full and silver in the inky sky. Graves pulls away, peppers Credence's long neck with kisses, eliciting another shiver. 

'You've done so much for me, today...' Credence starts, eyes firmly on Graves's mouth. His eyes dart up, meet Graves's own. 'Would I be greedy to ask for something else?'

Graves shakes his head. 'Never. You can ask for anything you want, sweetheart.'

Credence leans in, then, whispers against Graves's mouth, 'Can we go on the rollercoaster again, next weekend?'

There is a mischievous twinkle in Credence's eye when he darts away and Graves tackles him to the towel, pinning his hands above his head. 'Cheeky little imp,' he says, knees either side of Credence's waist.

Credence laughs beneath him, head thrown back, and says, 'You should have seen your face, Percy.'

The whisper of waves lapping at the shore, the distant cries and chatter of the park's patrons and the dinging bells of the trolleys waiting to whisk them home, float through the air. Credence's laughter subsides, and he blinks up at Graves, breathless. 'You did enjoy today, didn't you?'

'Of course,' Graves answers, bumping Credence's nose with his own, 'because you did.'

He rolls off of Credence, lying on his side, Credence turning to face him. Graves cups Credence's jaw, runs a finger along the shell of his ear. Sometimes, Graves can hardly believe this lovely boy is real, but here he is, solid and warm beneath his hand. He buries his face in the crook of Credence's neck, inhaling his warm scent.

Credence giggles places a hand on Graves's waist. When Graves pulls back, Credence's smile is sleepy and content; Graves almost regrets kissing it away but with the moon high above, and the coloured lights of the parks twinkling behind them, he does it, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, hope that didn't rot your teeth too much like that cotton candy'll rot Credence's ;) Let me know what you thought (if you want) and [feel free to find me on tumblr](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/). :) 
> 
> I've always loved the 'Moon Over (insert place here)' format (a la _Moon Over Miami_ , which I admittedly haven't seen) even though most of this takes place during the day.
> 
> I'm pretty sure I've used the charms/spells wrong (& the muffling one was invented by Snape years later?) but...oh well. ;)
> 
> Some research notes for those interested:
> 
> The Cyclone [opened in June 1927](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coney_Island_Cyclone), so this is set after that.
> 
> The earliest Love Tester I could find [was this one that was manufactured in 1929](http://www.arcade-museum.com/game_detail.php?game_id=10886) but I think they're fun so I just went with it, possible anachronism be damned! (I took the text from some [30s ones I found for sale on eBay](http://www.ebay.com/itm/291984984829?item=291984984829&rmvSB=true)). 
> 
> [The Witching Waves](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Witching_Waves) that Graves refers to. I saw them first [in this newsreel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKEIqLZ5aDM) (and then in _Coney Island_ 1917 and _Speedy_ 1928). There's also footage of some of the other rides I mentioned. 
> 
> I'm [not sure about Mutoscopes](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mutoscope) being in a penny arcade but eh. I love old school 'peep shows' and wanted one in the story.
> 
> [Here's the doll Graves won for Credence](https://frauwulf.blogspot.com.au/2010/04/boudoir-doll-sighting-film-speedy.html). I was initially going to have him win a kewpie, but I decided Credence deserves something soft.
> 
> Even though I already knew enough about 1920s bathing suits I had to go look at pictures of them...for research. Especially [this screencap of Inspector Jack and Hugh](http://screencapped.net/tv/missfishers/displayimage.php?album=16&pid=60986#top_display_media) in _Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries_. For research. *shifty eyes*


	2. tunnel of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 'missing scene' from Credence's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Originally posted on tumblr](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/160251976334/tunnel-of-love). I wasn't going to post this, here, because it strays a little from the main fic (where Graves and Credence are sort of trying to not appear couple-y in front of the No Majes) but, what the heck! 
> 
> Inspired by [KonaKona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KonaKona/pseuds/KonaKona)'s comment on the first/main part. :)

Water laps gently at the sides of their boat, whispering past in its path along the artificial river. Credence shifts closer to Percival, feeling safe to do so in the dark of the tunnel. The air is damp but cool, refreshing after hours of walking outside with the hot sun beating down on them. Credence hadn't been too keen on the tunnel of love, at first, the idea of sitting in the dark unsettling even with Percy by his side. But Percival has indulged his every whim all day, and he thought the older man might appreciate the respite from the heat and crowds of No-Majes. Now that they are sitting close in the little boat, with the press of Percy's hand against his, their thighs wedged together, Credence is glad he suggested it.

A soft romantic tune plays through tinny speakers hidden in the shadows. Credence thinks he recognises it, but can't be sure. Still, he finds himself humming along.

'Comfortable?' asks Percival as Credence shifts in the wooden seat. He nods. 'Yes, thank-you.'

Though the warmth and closeness of Percival is distracting, Credence can't help but look around the tunnel in awe. It's not as impressive, maybe, as the displays of magic he's seen in his new life, but there is a magic here all its own. The soft glow of the coloured lights, the exotic tableaux, the love scenes, with little models dressed as people from far off lands, and the boat moving along the stream all on its own. It's breathtaking.

A teenage couple in the boat ahead canoodle, the girl giggling as her beau leans close and whispers something in her ear, arm wrapped tight around her slim shoulders. Once, Credence would have felt a hot pang of jealousy watching them, but now he only feels fondness. Percy slips his own arm around Credence and he sidles closer, leaning his head on the older man's shoulder.

Emboldened by the dark, Credence turns and places a quick, chaste kiss on Percy's jaw. Percy huffs happily and ruffles Credence's hair. Credence smiles and leans back in his embrace. 

On the banks a Dutch girl kisses her sweetheart, celluloid tulips sprouting around their feet, with a little windmill whirring behind them. Red and pink lights wash them in a soft romantic haze. Credence sighs. 'It's beautiful, isn't it?'

Percy hums his assent and Credence looks up to see he's only looking at Credence, not at the displays around them.

'You're not even paying attention.' Credence tries to sound stern but it comes out as fond.

Percival brushes a stray lock of hair from Credence's forehead. 'I'd rather look at you.'

'You're so sappy, sometimes,' Credence says but his stomach flips, warmth flooding through him, all the same.

'Don't pretend you don't like it,' Percy whispers low, in his ear.

Credence hums, non-committal, and grins in the dark. He kisses Percy's hand, and almost wishes the ride would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find me on tumblr](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
